


This Is What We Do

by sohappyiwhistle (theyneverhaveanextractionplan)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Inception Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2016, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyneverhaveanextractionplan/pseuds/sohappyiwhistle
Summary: Arthur and Eames have been dancing around each other for years. During a routine extraction in Las Vegas, it seems as though they'll finally be able to take their relationship to the next level. But it's never that easy, is it?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Inception fic! I haven't actually written anything in years, so it has been excited to get back into it. I'd like to say thank you to the artist, Lkaet, for her beautiful work! I'd also like to say a huge thank you to my beta, upsidedowntea, who was so helpful and kind. And finally, a thank you to the IRB mods who have worked very hard to organize this and have created a space for all of us to share our love for Inception.
> 
> I love this fandom, and I consume almost all of the fic in it, so I hope that this is as enjoyable to read as it was to write. 
> 
> Go see the artwork on tumblr and give Lkaet some love!  
> http://lkaet.tumblr.com/post/153330473577/this-artwork-is-my-contribution-to-round-6-of-the

Las Vegas is sweltering this time of year. Full of university students on holiday, bachelor parties, and, of course, tourists who find the pulsing neon lights, abundance of glitter, and littered streets captivating. While Eames himself loves a good gamble – well, it isn’t really gambling when you hold all the cards, but still – he isn’t in town for fun. He’s spent a good three weeks tailing the right people to make sure his forge is perfect, and now he’s meeting up with the team to run the job.

As he strolls into the hotel listed on the neat itinerary Arthur sent him, he scans the room for the aforementioned point man. It’s been a month since he’s last seen Arthur, touched him, kissed him. It doesn’t take long for Eames to spot him. He’s impossible to miss. The perfectly tailored black suit, high cheekbones, and gelled hair make it so even those who aren’t trained in the art of observation like Eames would be drawn to him. Arthur stands casually leaning against a pillar in the back of the room, scanning the crowd of gamblers with a look of righteous contempt as he waits, presumably, for Eames himself. 

The room is loud, both in volume and décor. The enthusiastic shouts of victory pair nicely with the golden glitter, black sequins, and red velvet in the room. Eames relishes the thick atmosphere, filled with the extra oxygen pumped in by the casino and the cologne overused by many men. He intends to find a seat at the bar and wait for Arthur to come to him. They’ve been playing this game for a while, circling one another with lingering touches and flirtatious glances – even kisses once, last month, when the adrenaline caught up with them. The jig is up though, as Eames has had enough of jerking off alone, pining for Arthur, when both men clearly feel the same way for each other.

Eames has comfortably seated himself at a table near the bar, and ordered two scotches – on the rocks for Arthur, neat for Eames – before Arthur joins him. 

“Good evening, Mr. Eames,” Arthur greets. He’s all smooth lines and seriousness, and damn him, because just the thought of unraveling him has Eames getting hard.

“Darling, what have I told you about nonsensical formalities?” Eames replies smoothly.

“I was beginning to wonder whether or not you’d show up,” Arthur leans back casually in his seat as he says this, as though he is assessing the effect his presence has on Eames. Like he doesn’t already know, Eames thinks, scoffing. 

The waiter arrives with their drinks, and Arthur gulps his down quickly. Eames lifts the glass off the table, and admires the gaudy and glittery coaster. The Grand Mirage, the best casino in all of Las Vegas!

“As though I’d miss an opportunity to be in your pleasant company, love,” Eames doesn’t miss the way Arthur’s eyes darken, dark brown melting into a warm pool of liquid gold. Eames follows the line of his throat as he takes a slow sip of his own scotch, the burn sending a shiver down his spine. “The money’s not so bad either,” he adds belatedly, thinking of the hours he’s spent tailing the mark and perfecting his forge.

“Ah, I should have known. You’re never one to turn down an opportunity to come to a casino, are you?” Arthur quips, smirking. If Eames is not mistaken, Arthur’s eyes have flashed down to his lips. Eames leans forward, memorizing the way Arthur looks in this light.

“Darling, you wound me,” Eames relishes the smile this squeezes out of Arthur.

“As if, Eames,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “Although, I am shocked that you aren’t out on that floor gambling right now, trying to impress some pretty young thing.”

Eames raises his eyebrows, “Pretty young thing? I knew you were vain, darling, but I never thought that my lovely Arthur was delusional.”

“Delusional? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” If Eames isn’t mistaken, and he’s not, Arthur is turning a little red.

“You turned 32 last month, you’re hardly a pretty young thing, love.” 

They both know that isn’t true, because while Arthur may no longer be as young as Eames’ usual suspects, he still has a hold on Eames like no other. When it comes to Arthur, there are feelings involved. There are butterflies, and blushes, and awkward moments of I-may-be-smooth-but-you-make-me-nervous silence. Eames knows that this may be a dangerous path, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. 

Arthur bites his lip to hide his smile. 

Eames smiles because it doesn’t work.

“If I’m so awfully old, then why are you here with me, instead over at the craps table hitting on that blonde?” 

“Maybe I want to test my techniques on you, darling.” Eames says innocently.

“Hit me.” Arthur says before he can stop himself. Eames’ grin turns wolfish. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red loaded die. 

“Let’s wager then, shall we? If this rolls anything less than a 3, I win, and you must do anything I say. If this rolls anything above a 3, you win.” Eames proposes, casually tossing the die from palm to palm. 

Arthur’s eyes narrow, “What kind of bet is that, Eames? I thought you did this all the time?”

“Oh I do. But, I figured, a lovely thing such as yourself deserved something special.” Eames is almost purring. This die always lands on one, and he knows exactly what he wants from Arthur.

Arthur has suddenly become very fascinated with a scratch on the tabletop; his cheeks and ears are turning red. Eames will need to pique Arthur’s interest to keep him in the moment, stop him from retreating back into his own head.

“Darling, if you’re too scared I would be perfectly willing to spend our time together elsewhere.” Eames says coyly. Arthur sits up straight.

“No, Mr. Eames, you’re on. Roll that die.” Arthur never could resist a challenge.

And roll it Eames does. It clatters on the table and comes to halt with a one facing upwards. Eames’ heart is doing somersaults in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“I win,” Eames says, licking his lips. It’s become hot in the room suddenly. “I think you know what I want, petal.”

“Would you like to finish what we started last month, Mr. Eames?” Arthur asks confidently. Arthur is no doubt referring to their heated make out session in the back of their getaway car in Tel Aviv, and – is that Arthur’s foot travelling up Eames’ leg? Oh the tables have turned.

Eames finds his trousers tightening around his now fully hard cock. Arthur raises an eyebrow as his foot applies the tiniest amount of pressure to Eames’ groin. Eames embarrasses himself by letting out a strangled moan as he fights to fish his wallet out of his pocket.

Despite the strange looks from the others in bar, Arthur looks the essence of class, as he calmly pockets Eames’ loaded die, and rises from his chair. He walks away from the casino floor and towards the elevators.

Eames hurriedly throws down two twenties and follows Arthur into an elevator, quickly pressing the button for his floor and jabbing the door close button. 

When the doors begin to close Arthur and Eames are instantly on top of one another. Eames’ hands slide down Arthur’s back, and land on his pert ass, squeezing. Arthur’s hands tangle in Eames’ hair as he bites and sucks along the taller man’s neck.

“Ah, fuck, Eames, I’ve been waiting…” Arthur trails off as he pants, tilting his head up towards Eames, lips just begging to be kissed. And kissed they are, a flurry of teeth and tongue fighting for dominance, until they break apart for air. 

“Such a tease, aren’t you Arthur? I’m gonna make you beg – ” 

“Hold the door!” a familiar voice shouts. 

Arthur and Eames spring apart. The point man flushes bright red, while the forger himself just groans. Arthur jabs the door open button and they are met with Dom Cobb, the extractor, and his very pregnant wife, Mal.

“Just the men I wanted to see!” he exclaims, clearly oblivious to the state of the men in front of him. Dom turns to press the button for the forty-eighth floor, and Mal takes in Arthur and Eames’ appearance. Her eyes widen when she notices the twin tents in their pants, and she smiles a teasing smile.

Arthur is quick to respond. “I’m glad that you ran into us, Cobb. We were just coming to find you to debrief,” Arthur glares at Eames when he snorts, “about the job.”

Eames shoves his hands into his pockets, and leans against the back wall of the elevator, one ankle crossed over the other. “Yes, Dom, your timing, as always, is wonderfully fortuitous,” he says, winking at Mal and blowing a kiss at Arthur. Arthur attempts to glare at that, but he is unsuccessful.

“Dom, mon cher, perhaps we can speak about the job tomorrow? I am feeling so tired, and would like to rest,” Mal says quietly. The woman could always pick up the atmosphere of a room well, and was apparently rooting for Eames today. God bless.

Before Dom could protest, the elevator doors opened on Eames’ floor. Eames, pecked Mal on the cheek, grabbed Arthur’s hand, and said “Good night you two!” as the doors shut behind them. Arthur’s smile is blinding, as they jog down the hallway towards Eames’ room.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see the artwork on tumblr and give Lkaet some love!  
> http://lkaet.tumblr.com/post/153330473577/this-artwork-is-my-contribution-to-round-6-of-the

Contrary to popular belief, Arthur has feelings. For example, he hates the carpeting in this hotel. It’s got far too much cerise, clashing with the bright oranges and golds, and it has a swirling pattern like paisley – like the paisley that so often appears on a certain forger’s shirts, the very same shirts that Arthur imagines ripping off and throwing to the ground only to curl up in their warmth soon after – and it scratches against his skin unpleasantly as he is thrown down upon it, and held there.

It happens like this:

Arthur had allowed Eames to whisk him away from the Cobb’s to his room, where they were planning on finally ending this absurd game of dancing around each other. Arthur had been enthusiastically blowing Eames when the hotel phone rang. Neither made a move to answer it, though Eames did disconnect it with a swipe of his hand when the shrill ringtone began to irritate them. 

Arthur could feel himself growing slicker by second, and ruining his perfectly pressed Dior slacks. 

“Darling, as lovely as this is, if you don’t stop I’m afraid our night will be over earlier than we want it to be,” Eames pants as he eases himself out of Arthur’s swollen mouth. He pulls the point man off of his knees and kisses him before bringing their foreheads together. 

Arthur’s heart is pounding, and he is painfully hard. He makes a mewling sound, and attempts to string together something coherent, “Eames… I need… Please.” 

“Tell me.”

“I need everything. Fuck me, Eames, do it. Now… Sick of waiting,” Arthur’s body is burning with need. He grasps at Eames’ shoulders and all but clambers onto him, rutting against the forger’s strong thigh.

“I’m going to give you everything,” Eames growls, grabbing Arthur’s waist and holding him against the wall. “Going to make you scream, darling.” 

Eames has three lubed fingers inside of Arthur when the latter’s phone begins to ring. 

“Ignore it,” Arthur grunts, dropping his head back against the wall and grinding himself further down Eames’ fingers.

The thing is, Arthur thinks, is that Eames is alright with ignoring phone calls, but there are only 5 people with the number to the phone that is ringing: Arthur’s mother, his sister, Dom, Mal, and Eames. It’s an emergency phone, so when it began to ring a second time Arthur’s higher brainpowers kicked in.

“Fuck, shit, something might be wrong,” Arthur grumbles. Eames sighs heavily, but hands Arthur his cell. “Hello?” Arthur is greeted with a shout. He pulls the phone away from his ear.

“Mal! It’s Mal! She’s – the baby – fuck!” Dom’s tinny voice screams through the receiver. Arthur and Eames both freeze, their eyes meeting. Oh shit. 

“Mal’s not due for another 2 months!” Eames says as he extracts his fingers from Arthur and they begin frantically pull their clothes back on and wash up. 

“I know! Is birth this early bad for the baby?” Arthur asks, his voice rising as he jumps to the worst possible conclusion. 

“I don’t know, darling… I’m sure we’ll figure everything out,” Eames says worriedly, ushering Arthur out of the room and towards the stairwell. They take the stairs by threes, making it down to Dom’s floor in less than a minute.  
They burst into the Cobbs’ suite. Arthur catches sight of himself and Eames in the mirror and is momentarily horrified. Their shirts are wrongly buttoned, and their hair is all over the place. Eames has hickeys forming all over his chest and neck, and Arthur’s paints have wet stains.

Eames rushes to Mal, who is seated on the couch. Arthur takes stock of the situation. Mal looks calm, and Dom is still standing by the door. Odd… 

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Eames asks the room.

“Um… I may have… I may have overreacted…” Dom mutters, turning an awkward shade of pink and shoving his hands in his pockets. Mal rolled her eyes, before whispering something to Eames about his shirt.

As it turned out, Mal was not in labor. However, thinking that she was had effectively killed the mood, leading to a flustered Arthur and a very sour Eames. The room had settled into a silence so awkward that when Dom suggested they just get to work then, in the middle of the night, everyone agreed. 

The job was a routine extraction. Richard Grisham was a senator whose daughter, Sonia, was romantically involved with the son of a high-profile drug runner. Grisham, strangely, didn’t have a problem with the drugs. His main concern was that his daughter’s boyfriend had recently become her fiancé, and he wasn’t sure of the man’s true intentions. Grisham hired the team to go in and see if the fiancé really loved his daughter.

The job was simple enough. The team would tail the fiancé, Javier, and grab him during his bachelor party in Las Vegas. Then Eames and Cobb would enter his mind, doing one of two things. Plan A was that Eames would play a seductress who lured Javier in. If that worked, and Javier did nothing to stay loyal to Sonia, Eames would then ask about why Javier didn’t just leave her. Plan B was that Eames would forge Sonia, and Cobb would help to stage a scene that made it seem as though Sonia was cheating on Javier. Cobb’s monitoring of Javier’s reaction would tell them all they needed to know.

Back topside they’d leave the hotel. Dom and Mal would take a helicopter that Grisham sent to meet with him, before meeting Arthur and Eames at the safe house. Arthur and Eames would take the PASIV and drive to the safe house straight from the hotel.

Eames had already perfected his forges prior to coming to Las Vegas, and Arthur had acquired an off-site chemist to provide their generic somnacin. This job only really needed 2 people to go under, so Arthur planned to stay topside. Arthur would stand guard in the hotel room, and Mal would remain safe in her and Dom’s room for the duration of the extraction. 

It seemed easy enough, but those were famous last words.

\---------- 

The next day, despite a lack of sleep, the job began smoothly. The mark had been picked up without notice, and everyone was reacting to the somnacin well. Arthur is loath to admit that he was distracted when the door got kicked down. He had seen Eames’ sleeping frown with a twitch of his brows, and without thinking reached over to smooth the offending lines on the man’s handsome face. His fingertips were brushing over the man’s plump lips when the door was kicked down and Arthur was suddenly face down in the carpet. The ugly, rough carpet. 

“What are you doing to him?” one of the men surrounding Arthur shouts. So he doesn’t know about dreamshare, Arthur thinks, relieved. The man digs his gun into Arthur’s tailbone. “I said what are you doing?”

Arthur doesn’t answer. Instead, Arthur begins to plan how the hell to get out of this situation. These men are obviously Javier’s security, and at this point it doesn’t matter how they found this room, it only matters how Arthur will get them out of it. There are five men in total. Arthur can’t get to his gun, but he can make sure that the men are distracted. That way, when Eames and Cobb come to – in about, a minute and a half – they’ll be able to incapacitate at least 3 of them.

Arthur is taken out of his thoughts by a loud scream.

“Get off me! Let me go!” 

It’s Mal. 

Arthur can’t breathe.

“Mange de la merde! Fiche-moi la paix!*” Mal shouts as she is roughly pulled into the room. She causes such a ruckus that Arthur is able to roll away from the man on top of him. He grabs his gun as he sits up, not hesitating to put a bullet in each of the six men in the room. His adrenaline is through the fucking roof; this was supposed to be easy.

Sighing in relief, Mal flops down onto the couch. Arthur checks the men’s pulses – they’re all dead – before barricading the door with a heavy side table. He rushes over to Mal and looks her over for damage. She’s sweating, but overall appears to be ok.

“I am fine, mon cher. Just a little bruised on my arm,” she says calmly, patting his cheek. Arthur searches her eyes for a moment before nodding, and moving to check on the people in the dream. 

“We’re going to have to do something about Javier… He can’t just wake up and see all of this…” Arthur says as he quickly moves any and all weapons away from the mark’s reach. Mal looks nervous as she begins to contemplate how they can finish this job now.

“Perhaps if we –” she starts.

There is a bang on the door. Arthur moves himself in front of Mal, aiming his glock at the door. He’s nervous, but ready to defend the woman behind him with his life. He sees movement in his peripheral vision, and turns his gun that way. 

It’s Eames.

He throws his hands in the air, staring at Arthur in shock as he takes in the bodies that surround him.

“Darling, it’s just Cobb and I. Someone want to fill us in?” Eames looks understandably worried. Arthur meets his eyes and instantly feels calmed. The forger seems to have that effect on him…

“Arthur? Mal?” Cobb says, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Yeah, sorry,” Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden Javier’s men were in the room, and then Mal was here… They didn’t know what we were doing, just that their boss was in our custody.” His pulse has quickened. How did this happen? How did he let this happen?

Cobb nods, moving to check on Mal. His hands are shaking as they lightly caress her swollen belly. He kisses her forehead softly. Arthur turns when he feels Eames’ calloused hands on his forearm, gently tugging him to a corner of the room.

“We have about three minutes before the mark wakes up, love…” Eames’ words are all business, but the intensity in his eyes as he searches Arthur’s says otherwise. Arthur knows the other man well enough to understand that he is worried. Worried about the job, about Mal, about Arthur. His stomach begins to do flips as he watches the bluish-grey eyes in front of him melt a little bit.

Arthur turns his head to look at Mal and Dom. They are still caught up in their little moment. “I’m ok, Eames.” Arthur whispers, punctuating his point with an extremely chaste, blink-and-it’s-over peck on Eames’ mouth. Eames seems shocked, but he recovers quickly. He nods and steps away from the corner they’ve occupied.

There’s a second, louder bang on the door.

“Let’s pack up the PASIV and get out,” Eames says to the team.

The room becomes a flurry of motion. Arthur swiftly cases the PASIV, and Eames and Dom carefully moving the dead bodies to the bathroom where the mark won’t see them when he wakes. It takes them a few seconds to settle on an escape plan, but in the end its Eames’ that they choose to follow. 

They’ll get Mal and Cobb to the balcony of the suite next to theirs, and then Arthur and Eames will follow. After that Dom and Mal will head up to the roof, where Grisham’s helicopter is waiting, while Eames and Arthur exit out the front of the building and take a car to the rendezvous point. It’s seems simple enough, but the knot in Arthur’s abdomen says otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I don't speak French, I used a translation website, so I apologize if I made any mistakes. Here is what I intended for Mal to say: "Eat shit! Get the fuck away from me!"


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see the artwork on tumblr and give Lkaet some love!  
> http://lkaet.tumblr.com/post/153330473577/this-artwork-is-my-contribution-to-round-6-of-the

Despite the hot weather, Vegas is plenty breezy where Eames is standing. He’s just safely deposited Mal and the PASIV to the balcony next to them, and is spotting Dom as best he can. Once the man is over to the other side, Eames turns to aid Arthur as he steps onto the ledge. The neon lights from down below and all around them give Arthur a halo, and the breeze just makes the point man look even more like an angel than he usually does. 

Eames feels his chest constrict at the sight of him, he’s the most beautiful thing Eames has ever seen in his life. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, darling.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. “Eames…”

“Now, guys, now!” Dom shouts, leaning over the gap between the balconies to tug Arthur over. Eames shakes himself out of it and hops up onto the ledge; the pounding on the door is getting louder and the small side table Arthur shoved against the door will only do so much.

Eames’ stomach lurches when he makes the mistake of looking down.

“Go!” Arthur shouts to them, “Eames, I’m here, come on!”

Eames forces himself to look at Arthur. He takes a deep breath and jumps across the divide. Arthur is waiting there for him, and he grabs Eames’ hand.

“This is what we do,” Arthur says, squeezing, “We’re ok.”

“Yes.” Eames responds. How articulate, he thinks to himself.

Then, they run. They sprint down a few flights of stairs, before getting in the elevator to go down the remaining floors to the casino floor. Arthur is panting and he leans into Eames, pressing his nose in the larger man’s neck. Eames wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist and they slot together beautifully. Eames catches sight of them in the elevator mirror. They’re both slightly disheveled, and red in the face. It’s as though they’ve been furiously making out. If only.

As they near the ground floor they pull apart, each taking a moment to adjust themselves. Arthur’s hands smooth his shirt, before fluttering up to his hair. Eames retucks in his shirt, and then fixes his collar. They’re not the picture of elegance, but they’ll do.

By the time the elevator dings they have their breathing under control, smoothly stepping out of the elevator and onto the casino floor. All they have to do now is make it to the valet stand just outside the main doors. 

They are halfway there when the first gunshot sounds. The blast and the flurry of motion in the room send cards and poker chips flying everywhere. The screaming pierces Eames’ ears as he shoves Arthur behind a blackjack table. He draws his gun and fires at the men behind him. 

He’s on his way to cover when there’s a sharp ripping in his thigh, and pain shoots up his leg.

Eames makes it to the table where Arthur is taking cover behind, before his legs give out.

The pain is, unsurprisingly, excruciating.

“Eames!” Arthur shouts, over the noise of his own gun firing back at what can only be the mark’s men behind them. 

“’M fine, love,” he slurs in response, though his vision is clouding.

Arthur stops shooting, places the PASIV near Eames’ hand, then bends over to remove Eames’ belt. There should be an innuendo there, but Eames can’t seem to think of anything.

Arthur’s hands tremble as he fastens the belt to Eames’ leg, a makeshift tourniquet. Eames feels dizzy, but just as he’s about to rest his head on the back of the table Arthur smacks him.

“Hey! None of that, Mr. Eames, we still haven’t finished what we started,” he says in an awful attempt at sounding at ease. “The bullet missed your femoral artery, Eames, you’re going to be fine. You just have to stay awake… Listen to the sound of my voice.”

And that would be soothing, except Eames is hurting and Arthur’s voice is muffled under the sound of his gun firing. 

“Just stay awake, Eames. There’s only a few of them left. Eames!” Arthur is nudging the man with his foot, as he leans out of cover to shoot a few times. Eames grips the PASIV until his knuckles are white. He flexes his toes, blinks rapidly, and fights to stay awake and alert. He won’t let Arthur deal with this alone. 

Arthur ducks back into cover to check on Eames’ wound. The bleeding is less profuse, but still concerning. He looks around the room; they are about fifteen feet from a pillar that can serve as cover. If they can make it to the bar just past the pillar they’ll have a straight shot to the exit. There are only two or three men left shooting, Arthur notes, he thinks they have a chance.

“Eames,” Arthur shouts over the gunfire, “Think you can make it to the pillar?” 

Eames does not think he can make it to the pillar. “I’ll need help.”

Arthur nods, glancing at the PASIV, then at Eames. “You hold the PASIV, I’ll hold you.” 

As they go to make a move for it another shot rings outs. “Fuck!” Arthur shouts, letting go of Eames and returning fire. There are a few more shots from both ends before the room is engulfed in silence. Arthur drops back behind the table next to Eames. He looks panicked.

“Darling?” Eames rasps, the question very clear in his voice. What’s wrong?

“There are no more men shooting at us.”

“I,” Eames coughs, “I don’t see what’s wrong.”

“I fucked us. Shit. Shit,” Arthur’s eyes widen, “Dom and Mal need to get off of that helicopter.”

“Why?”

“Javier was there! He was with his men shooting. I shot him. He’s dead. We’re fucked.”

Eames feels ice in his veins. A fucked up job is bad enough on its own, but when the client is as powerful a man as theirs is… well shit. Eames’ adrenaline levels are spiking, and he really shouldn’t over exert himself, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. He grabs the PASIV and staggers to his feet.

“Let’s go. We’ll call them from the car.” Arthur looks as though he wants to protest, but Eames cuts him off, “I’ll be fine, you said it yourself. Besides, we can’t put Mal in a situation like that.”

With the reminder of Mal, Arthur springs into action. He helps Eames half jog half walk to their SUV. He hauls Eames into the passenger seat and tosses the PASIV into the back, before sprinting to the driver’s side. He recklessly turns onto the road, and they’re off. 

“Eames,” Arthur says reaching over to run his fingers through the forger’s hair, “I need you to stay awake, and call them for me. There’s a burner in the glove compartment.”  
Eames swallows thickly and nods, reaching forward and removing the phone. His hand is shaking; his body is not reacting well to the stress he’s just put it through.

“Hello?” Dom’s gruff voice says from the phone.

“Dom, something’s happened. I need you to remain,” a cough, “remain calm. Answer my questions vaguely,” Eames says.

“Alright.” Dom’s voice remains casual.

“You’re on the helicopter, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Just you, Mal, and the pilot?”

“Uh huh, you got it boss.”

“Does this pilot know anything about you or your destination?”

“Nope. We had to show him ourselves.”

“Ok. Wonderful,” Eames pauses, what now? He can’t remember what else to tell Dom. 

Arthur seems to sense this and he reaches over and pulls the phone from Eames’ hand.

“Dom? It’s Arthur. I shot the mark,” Arthur begins, never really one for beating around the bush.

“Oh. Cool.” Dom responds, having extreme difficulty keeping his voice casual.

“Tell the pilot to drop you off,” Arthur pulls the phone from his ear to fuck around with some GPS buttons, “once you hang up you’ll see that I’ve sent the GPS coordinates to your phone.”

“Ok.”

“Everything will be fine. We just need you and Mal to meet up with us so that we can get to the safe house and lay low. You got it?”

“Yes. See you soon, Mr. Grisham.” Dom says, then he hangs up.

It is at this point of the night, when there’s suddenly time for them to breathe, that Eames’ world gets dizzy, and goes black.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see the artwork on tumblr and give Lkaet some love!  
> http://lkaet.tumblr.com/post/153330473577/this-artwork-is-my-contribution-to-round-6-of-the

There are three things Eames notices when he wakes up: firstly, Arthur is… sparkly? Eames blinks a few times to make sure he isn’t crazy. Sure enough, all over Arthur’s face and hair is glitter. It’s the same golden color of the glitter that lined many of the hotel’s gaudy decorations. Arthur must’ve gotten it all over him during the firefight on the casino floor. Eames thinks it looks lovely, complementing the man’s pale skin, but the scowl on Arthur’s face seems to say otherwise.

The second thing Eames notices is that he is in the third row of seats in the SUV. Arthur is in the middle row, with Mal, and Dom is driving. This shouldn’t be anything to note, but the third thing Eames notices is the screaming. Mal sounds like she’s in pain, and Dom sounds like he might pass out, Arthur is shouting at everyone to remain calm, but his voice is nearly hysterical.

Eames’ senses are slowly coming back to him in phases, first sight, now sound. He tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out. Eames waits a moment before trying again, this time he hears himself speak. “What’s going on?” 

“C’mon Mal, you can do this. We’re almost to the hospital, don’t worry,” Arthur says loudly. His voice is competing with Dom’s shouts of, “Oh God, oh God, oh God, is this really happening? Now? I’m not ready!”

Eames leans forward and over the seat backs in front of him, attempting to ignore the sharp pain he feels in his leg. What he sees will forever be ingrained in his memory. Mal is naked from the waist down, knees bent so that Arthur can place his arms between her legs. She’s trembling. 

“Dom, I swear to God, shut up! You. Are. Not. Helping.” Arthur says through gritted teeth. He sweeps a hand across his forehead, presumably to remove the sweat from his brow, and startles when he notices Eames is staring at them. “Good news. We’re heading to a hospital,” Arthur begins, turning his attention back to Mal’s lower body.

“May I ask why?” Eames says expectantly.

“Because there’s a human coming out of me, Eames! That is why!” Mal hisses, clearly not in the mood.

“Just sit back, Eames. We’re ok, we’re ok,” Arthur chants, though more to himself it seems than anyone else.

Eames glances up at Dom. He’s sweating profusely. Eames can tell it’s taking everything Dom has for him not to stop the car and throw up. Eames takes a deep, steadying breath and makes it his personal mission to keep Dom from freaking out for the last fifteen minutes of their drive.

Eames is so engrossed in his mission, in fact, he barely feels his leg pains and he totally misses the awe in Arthur’s eyes as he watches Eames.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go see the artwork on tumblr and give Lkaet some love!  
> http://lkaet.tumblr.com/post/153330473577/this-artwork-is-my-contribution-to-round-6-of-the

Everyone makes it to the hospital in one piece. Dom rushes Mal inside to the maternity unit, and Eames is taken into surgery. Arthur paces the hallway of the hospital; gripping the PASIV so tight he loses feeling in his hand.

He turns when a hand grasps his shoulder. It’s Dom. He’s beaming like a man seeing color for the first time. 

“It’s a girl. Phillipa. Mal’s fine, Phillipa’s fine. I have a daughter, Arthur.”

What follows is a burst of hugs and tears. Arthur rushes into Mal’s room and hugs her tightly. 

“You had me worried, Mal,” he says.

“Oh please, we both know I am strong,” Mal says, “besides, I think we both know what really had you worried. Or who.” She shoots him a knowing look, smiling when Arthur’s face turns the same pink as Phillipa’s blanket.

“Shut up,” Arthur replies, “Let me hold my goddaughter.” Dom gently lifts Phillipa from her bassinet, cooing. He hands her to Arthur. “Hello,” Arthur whispers, “you’re so beautiful.”

A knock on the door of the room snaps Arthur out of Phillipa’s trance. “I was told that Mr. Smith’s husband was in here?” a young nurse asks. It takes Arthur a second to realize that Mr. Smith is an alias of Eames’, and that he must have been the husband the man was referring to.

“Yes, I’m right here,” Arthur says, ignoring the look of pure glee on Mal’s face when he hands Phillipa back to her. 

Husband, huh? She mouths as him, teasingly.

Arthur follows the nurse out of the room. “Is everything alright?”

The nurse nods, “Your husband is recovering well, he’s just woken up and was asking for you.” 

Arthur is ushered to Eames’ room a few hallways down from Mal’s. He doesn’t even wait for the nurse to leave the room before attacking Eames’ face with kisses. Eames laughs as Arthur does so, and Arthur’s heartbeat quickens.

“It’s a girl. They named her Phillipa.” Arthur announces, before Eames can even ask.

“How is she?”

“She’s lovely,” Arthur replies, unsure of whom Eames is speaking of, but certain that both Mal and Phillipa are doing well.

“Wonderful. The doctor’s say I’m going to be fine too, darling. As long as my lovely husband keeps me off my leg for a while,” Eames informs him, running his fingers up and down Arthur’s arm.

“Yeah?” Arthur murmurs, catching Eames’ hand and interlocking their fingers. “Well I can think of a few ways to make sure you stay off that leg for a while.”

Eames’ hands come up to cup Arthur’s face, before he kisses him tenderly.

“I look forward to every minute of it, darling.”

“What? Finally finishing what we started?” Arthur says, teasing.

“Oh but darling, we’ve only just begun.”

And since Arthur can’t think of what to say to such a promise he simply kisses Eames hard, before snuggling up next to him on the bed. They’ll have to deal with the aftermath of this job, and talk about how their relationship will change things, but all of that will come later. Right now, Arthur can’t think of any other place he’d rather be. He palms the little loaded die in his pocket at thinks this is what we do. He knows he’s in the right place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading. :)


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